


Emma, the Protector of the Realm

by lextenou



Series: The Tales of the Scion [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Based on Chivalric Poetry, F/F, Idiots in Love, Period Typical Violence, medieval politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-18 05:34:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4693937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lextenou/pseuds/lextenou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lady Regina is to be wed to allow her to assume the throne of the Summerlands. Ancient restriction at the Abbey limits her escort to one of royal blood and pure intent - enter Champion of the White Kingdom, Emma Swan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Emma, the Protector of the Realm

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Three Dollar Bill Swan Queen Big Bang! Thanks to rtarara for beta reading and chocolate_cream_soldier for the art! Cover art visible here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/4684406

The tale of the House of White was writ in long and bloodied history, as is well known. Through the annals, it is laid out in reigns and wars, famine and plenty, the legends known and taught through the lands. Written into mists of dim memory is the rise of the House of White with its service to the peoples of its lands. Well do all know the tales of those of the House, and the Houses that have joined with it. Ballads resound detailing the efforts of Snow White and her Prince Consort to retake the lands, and alongside them rings the ballad of their Scion and Heir.

The lands rise to tell the tale.

The simple pixie cut of Snow White's hair precluded much in the way of complex frippery. Her legendary fighting style, reliant as it was on her wits, did not necessitate overmuch in the way of armor - therefore the shining black of her hair would be visible on the battlefield, unhelmed. 

Emma Swan had chosen a wildly different track. By her preference, her hair remained at a solid length just past her shoulders. When clean and brushed out, soft curls tangled around her face, rendering her features with an angelic cast. However, more often, her hair remained matted with sweat and wound beneath her helm, serving as additional cushion against a staggering blow. 

Sometimes, she envied her mother's foresight.

Helms were sweaty, cumbersome contraptions.

Sweat dripped from her scalp, curling along the edge of her hairline before wending its way down the back of her neck. Uncomfortable as it was, Emma paid it little heed. Around her, the clash of weaponry and shouts rent the air. Her booted feet slid in the battle churned earth. Blood and piss suffused the formerly grassy clearing, the upturned clods of dampened dirt turning into a fine miasma of quickly slickening mud. Each passing breath turned the field into a worsening quagmire. 

If she didn't know better, Emma would have thought the land cursed, deliberately laced to suck their feet and deaden their limbs. 

A swipe across a leather covered belly cleared her immediate opponent, leaving the helmed soldier clutching at entrails that suddenly sought to kiss the increasingly fetid ground. A swift pommel blow to the helm saw the soldier crumple to the ground and Emma raised her sword, head on a swivel for her next opponent. 

A cry sounded across the field, a shout raised in victory. The banner for the House of White unfurled, long and fluttering in the breeze. 

Emma's head turned from the hue, her eyes scanning across the field. Slowly moving limbs and low groans sounded across the battle. A soft sob caught her attention and she turned, her steady gaze meeting the scared eyes of the one who groaned. Quiet and terrified, a black helmed soldier lay before her. She reached down and removed his barbute with a harsh jerk, pulling it free of his sweat soaked head. Broad slashes across his chest and arm indicated his inability to rise or effectively move, the sinews of his frame rent from his very bones by the slashes. A swell of blood lined the protruding pike head where it thrust through his breeks, the light homespun cloth absorbed the near black blood, casting in a long, narrowing vee over his thigh.

Emma knelt beside the young combatant. She pushed his arming cap back, allowing a brief curl of dirty blonde hair to be visible. She flicked two fingers toward his leg.

"If we pull that, you die."

He gazed at her, the knowledge glinting in his eyes. He nodded, once. "Don't leave me."

She pulled out a knife. "You will not be alone." She pulled her dagger, gifted on her sixteenth birthday when she first took on her knighthood. "You have done your duty."

He closed his eyes. She rested her palm against his forehead, the metal of her misericorde cool against her fingers. A swift slash and a second line of deep burgundy swelled at the base of his throat. 

Emma rested her hand against his forehead, her breath harsh against her throat in stark counterpoint to the burble of life's blood that filled the boy's airways with each sputter. "Go in peace. This battle was not for you."

With a final shudder, the body of the tortured young man relaxed. Emma stood.

A grim twist of her lips met the high noon sun as she wiped the misericorde clean enough to go back into her belt.

She exhaled.

"For the White Kingdom."

Striding across the field, she ignored the rest of the groans. 

This battle had taxed her patience overmuch. Happy would she be when King George would finally recognize his son's abdication. These regular skirmishes wore on them all. In this battle, many of the opposing force were unskilled or poorly trained. Given the disparity in ages before their swords, it did not surprise Emma. It appeared George had begun pressing boys and aged men into service. The report she had sent ahead with a messenger promised to be problematic and would require further answer. 

The journey back to their home passed with little fanfare, encumbered as they were with excess prisoners of war. The ones from King George's retinue would languish, but those of his lords...it might be a boon for the kingdom. Emma did not dwell overmuch on the contemplation. Either they would be ransomed or they would not. In accordance with custom and established trade, those ransomed would be released or returned to their lands. It mattered naught to her. At the end of it, she remained victorious and they did not.

Scant days past the skirmish espied Emma kneeling upon broad flat flagstone of her monarch's private sitting room. Her initial reaction had proved correct. The news of George's impressment of the aged and the young had troubled the White monarchs overmuch, leading them to take caution prior to rendering any call to action.

"My Lord, you called for attendance?" Head dipped in deference, Emma studied the flagstones of the royal study with practiced calm. It generally did not bode well for her to be summoned. Moreso now that she fairly itched to render George's threat ineffectual.

A scrape of wood across the worn stones came from before her, where the large desk was situated, indicating that His Royal Highness David White, Duke of Uinnseann, had risen. Emma kept her eyes down as befit her station. A low chuckle sounded before her and a broad, callused hand clapped against her shoulder. "Come." Emma raised her gaze as she stood, one eyebrow raised in question. "You have reached your twenty-eighth summer." His eyes tightened as he took in her appearance. She had halted her trek to answer his call long enough to wash the dust of the salle off, making sure to present herself properly before the Queen's Consort.

"Yes, My Lord."

He shook his head with a rueful grin. "You comported yourself well in this last campaign."

"Aye, My Lord." They'd left with a thousand and returned with fifteen hundred. The coffers would bulge should the expected ransoms be received. Her finger twitched against her leg.

"Tithing from Lord William has been received." Emma dipped her head. She had expected nothing less. The man doted on his sons with a devotion that approached maniacal. It was little wonder they had fallen so easily. The untested branch did not bend. "His men have been released to return to their home."

Emma nodded briefly. Given her druthers, she'd rather have captured the marshal of the forces to determine if further skirmishes could be expected. Regrettably, that had not been in the casting. 

"As is your due, the spoils are at your disposal."

Emma's left eye twitched. How she hated this part. "Thank you, My Lord. With your leave, I shall have the disbursement arranged."

He shook his head, a soft and indulgent smile quirking his lips. "Hold that thought and come sit." He gestured to the larger, comfortable chairs positioned before the fire, two cups for tea already prepared between them.

Emma dipped her head. "As you say." She relaxed into the proffered seat, her arms resting on the plush furnishing. They sat for a long moment, the fire crackling in the stillness of the room. He shifted, extending his hand over the tea in an offering. Emma glanced over, accepting the implied invitation with a dip of her head. 

"Your training session this morning went well." Emma sipped the tea, a mixture of black and wildflowers that her parents preferred. The welcome flavor of home slid across her tongue. 

"Dunstan apprehends passing shrewdly." Another sip brought with it a fleeting memory of sitting upon her father's knee to taste their favorite tea. "Cailean promises to be a worthy grappler."

A proud smirk quirked over the rim of the fine china cup held within roughened hands. "Any fighter worthy of your training could do no less."

Emma shook her head, fighting the blush of pride. "You flatter me."

"A monarch is permitted." David's smirk widened into a full grin. "A father moreso."

"Has mother forgiven you the banquet?" 

He shrugged, unconcerned with the frippery his wife insisted on bestowing on their child. "We shall have one two weeks hence. 'Tis no concern."

Emma grimaced, her forefinger rubbing against the painted china of her cup. The warmth suffused her hands. "And the occasion?"

"An engagement." David sipped at his tea, blithely ignoring the discomfiture of his daughter's demeanor. "The Summerlands grow restless. 'Tis the same unrest seen from the plainsfolk last fall." 

Emma frowned and nodded slightly, remembering well the unrest. Numerous settlements had rumbled over the banditry of their trade routes, the patrolling of the guard weakened by the lack of discipline in the ranks. Rooting out the corrupt guard had done much to improve things, reducing the near revolt to placid pastoral scenes once again. Regrettably, the corruption had allowed for much of the farmland to be razed, necessitating an influx of goods from the neighboring lands. They'd had to take the unfortunate step of drawing the vassals up. To a man, the demand had been ordeal by combat. As the appointed Champion of the House of White, it had fallen to Emma to answer. 

Her continued service stood evidence for the level of success their claims met.

Soft tones drew her from the memory of the clashes with the overly confident vassals. "Lady Regina is to be wed."

A single brow lifted at the hearing. "I understood she was ensconced in the Abbey Drycraeft."

"So she has been these ten years hence." A low release of sighed breath gave David's opinion on the matter. "The time comes for her to secure her people's future and lead."

Dipping her head in acknowledgment, Emma placed her empty cup on the table between them. The traditions of their lands promised much to those who could adhere to them. "As you say. When shall she arrive?"

A bemused smirk met her enquiry. "As soon as you fetch her."

"Sire." Flat and toneless, Emma pinned her father with a hard stare.

He spread his hands in a placating gesture, innocent of that which she would accuse him of - of surety, by design. "The terms by which this was agreed stipulate a single escort. You know well the protections of Abbey Drycraeft." His voice rose to a sonorous proclamation. Emma remembered vividly the missive from the Abbess, delivered as was customary, by scry. "Naught may by attempted but that an honorable member of royal blood supplicate in order to remove those under the Abbey's care." David grimaced, setting his cup down. "That Baelfire did wed introduces much complication to these plans. So." David reached over and patted his daughter's knee, smiling gently. "Needs must. Leave no sooner than morning's light." He laughed shortly. "Your mother expects you for dinner."

Emma shook her head, a wry smirk gracing her features. "As the Queen commands." 

\---

Vespers rang from the church, led by the attached Drycraeft retinue. As always, all but morning gathering remained optional for the castle, allowing the bells to serve as a call to stations - for Emma, as a call to dance attendance on her parents at dinner. 

Rolling her shoulders, Emma replaced her borrowed weapon on the rack. The morning had seen her close combat training, but the afternoon had allowed her some brief polearm training. She preferred to know the moves of her possible opponents to better protect herself against them. The hardest for her to counter remained knifemen, as they typically were nimble and low to the ground. Better for them to reach her horse's belly, and worse for her to reach while mounted. It had taken being dumped once for her to learn the distaste she bore for the unceremonious activity - thankfully, that had been in a training exercise rather than in battle. While she bore two steeds to battle, never yet had they fallen while under her. It was a small manner of pride, but pride nonetheless, tempered by her natural reticence towards unnecessary loss of life.

She would be needed within the dining chamber in short order. A quick bathe and costume change would be all she had time for, as much as she would appreciate an extended soak. The extra training had been worth the time crunch, especially with her upcoming travels. Though not typically taxing, it would do well for her to keep her wits about her.

She entered the dining hall with scant moments to spare before the bells rang to signal the end of Vespers. She cast her eyes about, her interest piqued by the presence of one frequently missed.

"Emma!" The wide grin was accompanied by a wild waving of his arm as Baelfire spotted her entrance.

"Evening, brother." Emma grinned at the man with whom she had spent much of her formative years. Turning her head slightly, she bowed her head in greeting to the latest addition to the family. "Sister. How goes the archery?"

The wild mane of red curls bounced merrily around Merida's head as she shoved at Bae's shoulder in an attempt to get him to cease his waving. "Nae better. 'Tis promising, tha challengers so far for tha games." Merida's legendary bowmanship was neck in neck with Snow's, serving as a bond between the women. Many a day had passed when the two would gallivant across the lists to draw the string and taunt each other in merry jests.

"Your Majesty." Emma turned a deep bow to her mother, seated near the head of the table. Snow rolled her eyes and tossed a roll in the general direction of Emma's head. Used to such projectiles, she caught it deftly and tossed it in return.

"Emma."

"Yes, Mother." Emma's innocent smile proved too much for her father, who sought to cover his laughter but failed with a loud snort. Snow's hand snapped out and smacked him across his stomach, ending his laughter with a grunt. 

"Sit, you troublemaker."

Emma leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of her mother's head. "If I didn't make trouble, however would you know I still cared?"

"We've less than a fortnight to sort out these details before the next feast day." Snow gestured for the servants to bring in the repast. "We need to get as much of this planned as quickly as possible." The broad table before them was soon filled with platters of food, roasted meats and jellies occupying the places of honor. Near David, the fruit tart was placed, and near Merida, the rich meaty stew preferred by Bealfire. She slid the bowl closer to her husband and pulled a handful of blueberries to her trencher. 

Ceremony was not frequently stood upon in private family dinners in the White family. David had frequently joked their youth spent on battlefields and in the woods had prevented them from wishing to stand overmuch on courtly frippery. 

As the servants filed out, Snow launched into her plans. "We shall host the ceremonies here. Royal games will precede the wedding itself. Five days should be sufficient." She pointed her dagger at her daughter. "Can you get the Lady Regina here by the end of the week?"

Emma chewed her meat thoughtfully before swallowing. "Should do s'long as she can ride."

Snow waved her hand dismissively. "Abbey Drycraeft teaches well the riding, it should present no issue." She turned her dagger toward her husband. "Will it be feasible for her father to attend?"

David shrugged, picking a piece of rhubarb out of the fruit tart and popping it into his mouth. "He's sent word he'll arrive three days before and guest with us for a week."

A thoughtful nod came before Snow's expression fell into sorrow. "'Tis a pity her mother no longer lives. Her input should have served invaluable to these proceedings." She turned her attention again to her daughter before stabbing a piece of roasted fowl. "You will attire yourself properly."

Emma raised and eyebrow and looked to her father and foster brother before returning her confused gaze to her mother. "As properly as always. I'll not be wearing a ball gown, but I'll do our name and my title proud."

Snow smiled and reached for Emma's hand, squeezing it in affection once Emma placed it out for her to grab. "I'm so proud of you." She released Emma's hand and gestured to the food, impatiently. "Eat, eat, you've a big week ahead. I'll make sure to arrange for you have proper provisions."

A soft laugh sounded at her mother's ridiculousness. "I can handle my affairs, mother. 'Twill turn right, naught will deter this. You know I know my duty."

Snow gripped at her husband's arm hard enough for him to yelp and poke at her hand before she released him. She turned to him with a broad grin. "She's my daughter when she's like this."

A sharp rap to the door was followed by two softer raps in quick succession. Snow straightened and looked to their adopted son. "Bae." With a nod, he rose and opened the door to allow their guest to enter and interrupt their dinner.

Snow shifted in her seat, popping a small portion of watermelon dipped in cream into her mouth, gesturing for their guest to join them. Emma slid over, allowing for the red haired man to pull a chair up next to her. 

"You come at an awkward time, Jiminy." Snow's flat tone brooked no argument. Whatever the spymaster had to report had best be worth the interruption. 

Jiminy spread his hands before bringing them back together to rub them together, the habit that had earned him the surname of Cricket. "My puppets have been speaking to me, Your Majesty." He smiled placidly. "The winds blow sour in the Summerlands." His soft voice carried easily through the room. Emma's dinner rested heavily in her stomach at the news, her sharp gaze cutting over to her parents, their furrowed brows revealing their own worry. She slid a goblet of wine toward the rumpled man. He dipped in head in thanks before taking a sip. "Were we to capture the power of this ill breeze, our flour production would triple."

Snow grimaced and set her dagger down. "You've identified the blowhard."

Jiminy raised one shoulder with a quiet smile that betrayed nothing. His fingers spread in a vague gesture that Emma had long before learned meant that what he was being presented with could be the truth. She leaned back in her chair and sipped at her own wine. "One of my puppets resides within his Hall. Unassuming. Quiet. Hears quite a bit."

Snow's finger traced along the pattern of the table. "Will the wind be missed?"

Jiminy's eyes glittered, his smile widening to broad humor. "As much as any Baron."

Emma grimaced, her hand fisting on the table. "Without Lady Regina, we've no recourse to intervene yet." Her hand flexed and she flattened it against the table with slow deliberance. Lack of action irritated as none other. 

After a further sip of his wine, Jiminy tilted his head, indicating Emma. "The Heir speaks true." He wiggled his fingers at Baelfire, who pushed his stew away and took a gulp of his wine. "As blue as her blood." It had always stuck in Bae's craw just how much Jiminy could say the most innocent things in the worst feasible manner and trigger reactions. From any other, he would defend Emma and her title to the death. When spoken by Jiminy, jealousy and spite radiated from the man in nearly visible waves. Emma had knocked him down more than once as children after he'd been riled by Jiminy. If they hadn't been fostered at Geppetto's, they would never have seen anywhere near as much of the spymaster as they had. 

Snow sighed. "We've no recourse, then." She ignored the minor outburst from Baelfire, chalking it up yet again to his unresolved tension with Jiminy. It was part of the reason she had agreed to the marriage to the heir to Laird DunBroch, to allow him to thrive away from the White Kingdom and Jiminy's needling influence. Their increased ties to their far northern neighbor had done much to improve the stability of both their lands.

The man who had forced this issue to the forefront of all of their minds waved his hand. "Well...not obviously, at least." His cheerful innocence sent a shudder down Emma's spine. She'd seen the remnants of his obvious incursions before. 

Snow leveled a steady look upon the spymaster before glancing to her heir. Her lips set in a thin line against the distaste of active subversion, Emma nodded once. They both knew well that needs must. They could not risk an uprising prior to the wedding, nor immediately after. Once Regina was able to step in and act as was her right - and hopefully her drive - the situation would be able to be handled without further refugees flooding into the White Kingdom, crippled and broken with all manner of disease. "Leave him untouched." Snow narrowed her eyes at Jiminy, meeting his placid gaze directly. "But curb his tongue."

With a dip of his head, Jiminy acknowledged the order before rising. He bowed fully to Emma's parents before dipping less deeply toward her. "Majesty. Highness." He turned to Baelfire and dipped his head, smiling with a placid benevolence. "Your Grace."

He turned and flitted from the room. Emma watched him exit on nimble, silent feet, waiting a scant moment from his exeunt. The assembled party turned their attentions to her as she pushed her chair back and stood. Bae had settled into a quiet sullenness that would lift as soon as she left. "If you'll excuse me, I must prepare for the journey." She dipped her head in deference to her parents and smiled sadly at the sympathetic Merida. They both knew well that it was only when Baelfire was around that Jiminy was at his worst, and only when Jiminy was around that Bae resembled the moody enfant terrible that ran so counter to his usual demeanor.

Emma quickly sorted her travel arrangements. A single horse for herself, provisions planning for two days out and three days returning at worst - she chose to plan for the worst but accept that her mother was right and their return would be nearly as rapid as Emma's lone journey there. 

It wasn't until Emma was mounting her horse the following day and setting off through the gate that she remembered that they'd not mentioned to whom the Lady Regina would be wed. She only hoped it would be someone capable of protecting the Lady properly.

With a click of the tongue, Emma set off on the ride toward Abbey Drycraeft.

Traveling alone through the wood always took Emma back to the trainings where it was attempted to be taught to her how to be stealthy. Invariably, she'd break a twig, stumble into brush, or startle a bird. In some way, her approach would always be broadcast well ahead of when she was due to burst forth and lay claim to whatever her prize was to be. 

Her pattern remained true on the journey to Drycraeft. It would be irritating were she on any other trip. Each distraction served to counter her nerves. On this trip the future of their neighbor hung in the balance. Her nerves served no purpose.

The shiver of magic slithering across her skin in a quiet, menacing caress announced her arrival to the Abbey Drycraeft's lands. The spell was set barely a quarter day's ride from the Abbey proper, the entrance to the lands appearing as a imposingly sheer wall of shale. Every once in a while, bits of rock flaked from high above and twittered to the ground. As soon as she passed through the barrier - annoyingly, on foot, with her horse blindfolded to prevent it from balking at walking through solid appearing rock - the rock revealed it's illusion, restored to the verdant forest landscape that she had been traveling through for two days.

Remounting her horse, she continued onward quickly, her horse picking up on her growing eagerness. She was almost to her charge.

"Your Royal Highness." The quiet greeting from the Abbess held no threat. Emma had sufficiently passed their silent scrutiny on her ride and passage through their defenses, despite the number of weapons she bore on her person. 

Clasping her fist across her chest, Emma dipped her head in greeting. "Your Reverence."

A fleeting smile darted across the face of the Abbess of Drycraeft. Every time Emma had espied the woman, she was attired in a rich blue, strangely counter to some of her followers. One that Emma had seen briefly from the Summerlands borders wore alarming shades of green. The one back at the castle attired in predominantly pink. She wondered idly if the Lady Regina would be similarly festooned.

"You have grown much since last I have visited." The Abbess circled her mounted form with an appraising eye before nodding to herself. "Come. I shall introduce you."

Emma dismounted smoothly and handed the reins to a waiting thrall. The blank expression left her with little comfort but her steed went willingly to the paddock. She knew she could be sure her steed would be fed and cared for whilst her business was attended to within the Abbey. 

Without further thought toward the indentured that worked the grounds, Emma followed the Abbess into the entryway of the Abbey. Rich tapestries hung from the walls, depicting many of the contributions the Abbey and its denizens were known to have made to those who were worthy of their services. One displayed a face familiar to her, beneath a crest she had seen throughout her formative years. Her great-grandfather, leading the charge to release captured foes set for sacrifice beneath a blood red moon, a green figure raising a hand over him as he rode. Her mother, with her father beside, leading the charge with a blue figure on an overlook watching them, charging against a corrupted crest held by a man with a demonic cast to his features. 

Her grandfather.

Her fist clenched at her side to see evidence of the story she had heard told throughout her life. The rise of a younger son, the discovery of his elder siblings rent limb from limb in brutal savagery, their families reduced to red paste. The secreting away of the baby Snow by the Abbess, to be raised in safety and trained until she could take arms and reclaim her kingdom. The unexpected alliance with a prince from another land. Their bravery in battle and rising influence. The alliance with Drycraeft, with the Abbess herself stepping into the fray. The deposing of the corrupt king, the evidence of his evil magics soaking the stones of the forest, only able to be eradicated by holy fire. The bodies. Mounds upon mounds of broken and tortured bodies, flayed to seek a womb to bear his bastard whelp. 

His rightful eradication from the world for high treason against his subjects, betraying the deeply held royal requirements for rule - namely, that those who are ruled, the land that is held, must be protected, that the earth of their land flowed within those sworn to rule. Unbound to the land as no other ruler before or hence had been, his destruction was total when the land itself rose to claim him. Her parents still refused to discuss what they had seen in more than passing reference and vague generality. 

Emma could but imagine the torturous ways the land would have sought its balance. 

In many ways, this experience had informed her parent's rule, keeping them hypervigilant against those that sought to upset or subvert the peace of their lands. Bound to it by ancient magics, her parents kept the wellbeing of their lands and their peoples close to their hearts. The employment of Jiminy and his puppets allowed them to have eyes and ears throughout the kingdom and nearby - and their alliance with the Abbey Drycraeft allowed them to maintain proper balance to allow the land to heal.

It had been nearly thirty years and the land was still normalizing.

The blood had soaked deeply.

Shaking her head, Emma turned from the tapestry to meet the Abbess' knowing gaze. 

"We shall to the sitting room." Emma dipped her head, waiting to be led in the correct direction. A hand wave from the Abbess sent a young attendant scurrying. To bring the Lady Regina, no doubt, darted through Emma's mind.

The sitting room appeared as an extension of her parent's castle, the rugs and tapestries displaying broad natural and geometric patterns. The well worn and cared for furniture was bright and looked delightfully comfortable. Three chairs were placed around a small table, a tray of prepared tea placed in the center. Emma was comfortingly reminded of her parent's own sitting room. Fewer books, but the same feel.

"I trust your journey was not difficult, Highness?"

Emma smiled and relaxed into the seat to the right of the Abbess. "Not a bit. Please, call me Emma."

A flicker of something darted across the Abbess' expression far too quickly for Emma to identify. It resembled surprise, before shifting into calculation. "It is two to three days ride, is it not?"

"Yes, indeed. The weather has cooperated fully thus far, and hopefully shall continue to do so. My parents have informed you why I am here, I trust?"

"Quite. The Lady Regina has been informed. While not opposed, it is naturally saddening to leave a place which has become her home."

Emma nodded, her lip quirking into a sad smile. "Well understandable, that. I trust her future lodgings will become home, in time."

A soft knock at the door interrupted further small talk between them. "Enter." 

The attendant swung the door open and stood with a shade of teenaged awkwardness at the threshold. "Her Royal Highness Regina Mills Verano, Duchess of Guarida." 

The attendant stepped aside and Emma received her first glimpse of Regina.

It had long been a niggling and troublesome thought to her that, due to the accident of birth, both she and her mother could not tan to a burnished, healthy glow. Pale to the point of sickly, Emma would sometimes envy those around her who could easily have their features take on a golden sheen. She regretted sometimes her bent toward the physical, wondering if life might have been easier for her had she a softer approach. Naturally then, her body would be rounded in sweet curves, her smile unladen with dark knowledge of battles past. Also too her lack of regal comportment served a bane, rendering her useless for high courtly intrigue. She was not meant for such dissemblage, preferring the straightforward approach.

In the doorway and striding toward her, radiating the truth of her breeding with each step, the Lady Regina met her dumbfounded gaze directly. A quirk of an eyebrow from the lady flushed Emma's cheek and she dropped her gaze into an awkward bow as she stood to properly finish her greeting.

"Regina." The soft tones of the Abbess tore Regina's deep russet gaze away from Emma. She ached to shift on her feet and release the building anxiousness that swirled in her gut. She ruthlessly shoved it down. She was here on a mission for the good of the kingdom. "This is Emma, the one I have told you about."

"Emma." She raised her head at Regina's utterance, meeting again the arrestingly direct gaze that trained on her. "I have heard much of you. It is a pleasure to meet you." A tight smile betrayed the partial truth of that statement before Regina turned to the Abbess. "Mother Abbess, what tea shall we be having today?"

Released from the observation of the princess she was to escort, Emma exhaled slowly. She paused a half second for the woman to settle within her seat before resuming her own, partially listening to the reply of the Abbess, tuning in fully as a cup of the tea was poured and placed before her. Emma accepted the cup, her finger curling around the delicately painted china.

"Your time with us has been fruitful indeed, Regina. I have seen few capable of what you have accomplished." The Abbess turned to Emma with a half smile. "Your accomplishments as well, Emma, have reached us here in the Abbey." Emma flushed, hiding her embarrassment in her tea cup as she allowed the floral brew to invade her senses. "You have rightfully earned your title as Champion."

"Thank you, Mother Abbess." Emma would be drawn and quartered for forgetting her manners if it ever reached her parents, she was sure of it. She gave a tight smile to the Abbess, her gaze darting over to Regina briefly. The princess was calmly watching her, sipping at the tea. "It has been earned through years of hard work. Protecting the kingdom and the people within is a charge that I take to heart." Regina's expression turned thoughtful at Emma's words. 

"You are prepared to escort the Lady Regina and protect her from all who would seek to harm her?"

Emma met the calm gaze of the Abbess directly, her sure conviction ringing through her quiet reply. "With my life." She shot a cheeky grin over to the princess, whose cheeks had taken a dusky hue. "Let us hope it does not come to that. I'd much rather be there to partake of the feast at the wedding."

The Abbess laughed softly, her hand waving between them. "I am sure it shall be quite the occasion." Turning to Regina, she smiled kindly. "You have prepared as directed?" 

Regina answered her query with a tight smile of her own as she placed her cup of tea down on the table. "All is at the ready."

The Abbess clapped her hands together. "Well! Let us not keep you any further from this...new adventure in your life." She rose and extended her hand to Emma, who clasped it. "May your journey be uneventful." To Regina, she tilted her head and murmured quiet words in a language Emma could not decipher. Whatever it was, it made Regina give another of those tight smiles and glance at Emma. She tried to smile reassuringly and extended her arm to Regina to guide her from the room. 

Emma wasn't really certain of the expression on Regina's face as she accepted the escort. She'd probably puzzle over it during their ride, unless Regina gave her something else to ponder.

The door closed behind them. 

The Abbess sipped at her tea for a long moment. She placed the cup down upon the table and swept from the room, her shoes gliding soundlessly over the stone floors and broad rugs. She made her way through the corridors, nodding absently to those she passed. In short order, she reached the quarters she sought - her own. 

The Abbess retrieved a small bowl from a high shelf and poured a splash of water into the bottom. Waving her hand over it, she waited as the image within coalesced. 

"Reul."

"Snow. They're on their way."

"Your thoughts?"

The Abbess smiled, her eyes twinkling with a deep light that appeared to come from behind her irises. "It promises to be a strong and healthy alliance that will ensure the future of both the White Kingdom and the Summerlands."

Snow sagged in relief. "Jiminy reports the Baron Cantador continues to try and incite the people. He hasn't found any evidence of blood magics but none of us would be surprised to find some."

The Abbess frowned, her finger tapping against her pursed lips. "The last batch of puppets have increased sensitivity to the blood magics. If its there, they will sense it." She zeroed her gaze on the White monarch. "Think you he is but a man?"

Snow exhaled slowly before nodding, reluctance twisting her face into a grimace. "He has not moved to gather other Barons to him."

The Abbess raised an eyebrow. "Overtly."

Snow bit off an oath before it could pass her lips. "Jiminy will need more puppets." She rubbed her forehead. "Three were disavowed from the last skirmish. Will that suffice?"

The Abbess dipped her head. "A single set of eyes can be more useful to gather what is needed. We will make it so." She nodded to herself, planning out what needed to be done to accomplish the proposed tasks. "Deliver them to Pink. If they agree to the oath, she will send them."

"As you say, Reul Ghorm." Snow smiled sadly. "If their alliance proves to be as strong as you predict, we might actually be able to enjoy some peace."

\---

The first day's travel passed without incident until the sun began to lower past the tops of the trees in the mid afternoon. Idle conversation had ended quickly, and they rode primarily with a minimum of speech. Emma was thankful that the Lady Regina was able to sit a horse so well, even if her bent toward conversation was rather brusque and monosyllabic. It allowed them to make excellent time, almost as good as Emma had made on her trip out, a most pleasant surprise. Their horses wanted for watering, as did they. A stop by a nearby stream was necessitated. 

Emma dismounted with a keen ear. She could identify nothing, but the hairs on the back of her neck prickled beneath the dust and sweat of travel. Lady Regina shot a sidelong glance over, a small frown marring the rich olive cast of her forehead. Emma's eyes tightened and her muscles ached to tense. She forced herself to remain loose, leading the horse to the water. Apparently negligently, she removed her sword and placed it on the ground approximately two strides away from the bank. She knelt at the edge, her hand dipping into the clear water. She brought it to her lips.

In the next breath, she had vaulted backwards, her hands landing on the dampened earth and grasping at her sword hilt, pulling it free of the scabbard. She flipped back to her feet, bringing the bared steel down upon the shoulder of the creeping footpad that had sought to sneak up behind her. He screamed as the steel dug into his flesh, his knife slash aborted from where it had sought to tear at her throat. It arced downward, the dead weight of his arm driving it through the cloth of her shirt and gashing her arm deeply enough to make her drop the scabbard upon the earth. To her side, Regina let out a shocked gasp, her hand rising. Emma threw up her injured arm, holding a hand up in a halting gesture, staying Regina's motion. With a jerk and a boot to the hip, Emma freed her sword from the footpad's shoulder. He collapsed to the ground, groaning softly as his life's blood seeped into the ground. 

Emma glanced over at Regina and her eyes widened for a breath before narrowing as her free hand dashed to her belt. From behind her, Regina heard a scream. She turned. A behemoth of a man attired in tattered furs charged toward them, an axe held high above his head. In a scant four steps he had cleared half the distance to be able to cleave Regina's head from her shoulders. In the bare breaths she had left, she had not the time to cast anything powerful enough to save herself. All she could do was summon a ball of fire to dazzle his eyes and dart to the side as she tossed it directly into his face.

His beard smoldered and he roared in wordless rage, his steps halting as he batted at his matted furs. He raised his head and leveled a glare of hatred upon Regina. A flash of steel glinted in the afternoon light and his expression shifted to shock before his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed, a knife buried to the hilt in his unprotected throat. The bloodied tip protruded from the other side of his neck, a single drop of the man's life falling onto the banks of the stream.

Harsh breathing sounded loudly in the calmed clearing, the horses whinnying in alarm at the sudden attack. A short, sharp whistle brought them to bear and Emma rubbed at their noses with her unbloodied hand until they had calmed sufficiently. She turned to Regina, keeping her bloodied arm away from the horses. 

"Are you injured, my lady?" Emma extended her uninjured arm toward Regina. Dirt had smeared along the cloth in a broad swath. Regina dropped her gaze to Emma's other arm, the sharp inhale of breath making Emma glance down as well. The sting of the pain had started, and the volume of the soaked blood indicated that this would be a problematic wound if not treated properly. Her hand twitched as a stream of blood coursed across her skin in sluggish progress. She tore at her sleeve, pulling the cloth free with her good hand as her blood dripped onto the dampened earth. Birds twittered in the air around them, swirling and rising on eddies of invisible wind. 

Emma wrapped her arm quickly, more to hide the wound and halt the blood's flow as much as feasible before they could find a campsite. She chanced a glance up at Regina, who watched her with an inscrutable look on her face before her charge cast her eyes around the forest.

"We should keep moving."

Emma smirked and picked up her sword, sliding it back into its scabbard. She sent a silent apology to the armsmaster, promising that she'd bother with cleaning her weapons once they were safely ensconced and out of sight. "There should be a cave not too far along. I've stayed there before. It's upstream."

Regina took a half step forward before halting, her hand half raised. "Do you require assistance?"

Emma shook her head. "Let's worry about getting out of here first." She reached down and pulled her dagger free of the behemoth's neck. She did not deign to wipe it on his matted furs, slipping it into her boot uncleaned rather than sully the blade further with his uncleanliness. She glanced at the sky with its whirling birds. "Let's go."

Regina followed behind, accepting the reins of her horse without comment. Emma smiled at her, her eyes tight from the now throbbing pain in her arm. She glanced at the footpad. He had expired before his partner, the cleaved wound in his shoulder soaking the dirt with a hefty volume of his life's blood. She spat at his feet. The peoples of the land did not deserve to be waylaid by murderous rejects that skulked through the forests. 

Their trek to the cave was quiet but for the babbling of the stream, rustling of leaves and twittering of birds. The hooves of the horses plodded easily through the soft earth, springy enough to provide an easy walk without being a muddy mire. Emma grimaced as her arm was brushed by a stray branch. 

She really hoped that would be the extent of their excitement on this journey. 

The cave was precisely where she recalled and remained as cool and dry as she'd recalled. The animal detritus within was months old. Her grimaced smile would betray the pain of her arm if her charge were to see it. She smoothed her face and turned to Regina. 

"'Tis not an inn, but 'tis shelter."

Regina strode within and cast her scrutiny about. With a nod, she raised her arms, her fingers drawing arcane symbols in the air. A soft murmur of a language long passed into legend filled the air with the thrum of power before releasing and arching into the air over their heads, spreading from Regina at the epicenter and washing across Emma's skin with a welcome frisson of safety. 

"We'll be hidden here." Emma nodded at Regina's statement and set to hobbling the horses for their night's rest. While hampered, the horses had free access to grass and a small eddy from the stream to provide them with fresh water, all well within the perimeter that Regina had cast. Removing the saddles tore at the dried blood beneath her makeshift bandage and she bit back an oath at the painful pulling. She hefted them within the cave, placing them with as much gentleness as she could muster. 

Regina had set herself to building a fire, the day's light rapidly dying and casting the walls of the cave in dim shadows. The quiet shuffling of branches against the dirt floor halted as a flick of a wrist set them ablaze. The fire that came to light suffused Regina's skin with a healthy warm glow, her features relaxing into an honest smile. She raised her head and met Emma's scrutiny with her dazzling smile piercing through any resistance Emma might have.

"I'll go and fetch more wood, my lady."

Emma turned, her foot raised to take her from the cave with all due haste. Her progress was halted by soft words from behind her.

"Call me Regina."

Emma turned her head, her eyes boring into the saddles. "Emma. Emma Swan." Before she could think further, she strode from the their protected enclave and into the woods.

The sight of the birds swirling above their heads had been a sign. She knew that to the core of her being. She was certain her mother knew already of what had occurred. It was part of why she tried to stanch the flow of her blood. A peculiarity of her parent's ties to the land was their knowledge when their bloodline spilled upon the earth. Another was her mother's affinity for birds. Thus far, Emma had not discovered an affinity of her own. She was certain it would come with time. 

Using her injured arm to gather the wood proved problematic, but not nearly as much as attempting to heft the wood would be. She gathered a solid armful that should suffice for a number of hours, being needlessly picky about quality before returning to their campsite. The broad flow of protection welcomed her eagerly, wrapping her in a sweet warmth as soon as she stepped through the border.

The firelight's glow barely illuminated the cave entrance as Emma returned from her gathering excursion. The dried sticks in her arms had not been difficult to locate. What had taken more time, and had caused her excessive pickiness as to which branches were appropriate, was convincing herself that she would not have difficulty on the rest of this escort trip.

It was not difficult to gather the secondary reasons why her parents had proposed she be the royal blood to be dispatched on this trip. Of all those in the bloodline, she was the Champion - an obvious enough reason - but also too they had acknowledged repeatedly that she was the least likely to be charmed by the wiles of her charge, whomever it might be. Apparently they were still convinced she would come to her senses and wed honorably by her own choice. None had caught her eye sufficiently for her to seek that new adventure, regardless of the number of balls and tournaments they hosted, or the dalliances dangled before her. The wedding a few days hence was a harsh necessity. Hopefully it would not be a hardship upon the beauteous Lady Regina. Thankfully, it did appear that the Lady Regina was amenable to do what was necessary to alleviate the current trouble in her lands.

Personally, Emma would have preferred an increase in patrols and shoring of their defenses over the ludicrous proposal of a marriage to someone yet unknown. It was regrettable that Lady Regina would be wed to someone she may or may not even like, but the needs of the kingdom demanded it. Her father's regency had weakened considerably since the death of his wife. It was likely that he would soon abdicate in favor of his daughter to enjoy his twilight years without the pressure of the crown, a very real possibility which wore heavily upon the White monarchs. The retrieval and return of her charge would do much to allay the Queen's concerns, and the announcement of the nuptials when she returned them to the castle would ring loudly across the lands. The hosting of the wedding within the White Kingdom was odd, but no odder than other nuptials Emma had witnessed. The unrest within the Summerlands gave credence to hosting them within the White Kingdom, as did the giving over of a member of the House of White to the Summerlands. 

She stepped past the bush that marked the cave entrance and halted in her tracks. 

Gentle warmth of the light caressed the smooth slope of bared shoulders. The loose tunic was slipping lower, its finely woven cloth gapping open revealing the delicate lines of a smooth throat and delicate bones to Emma's hungered gaze. Unrestrained locks of dark hair transformed the aristocratic lines of her charge's face into something softer, gentler. Thankful Emma was for the radiant sight, embracing it into her memory as she stood at the cave's entrance, struck dumb by the small smile that danced around the corners of Regina's full mouth.

Emma swallowed and stepped forward, clearing her throat. "I bring more wood, lady."

A single brow arched, the soft lilt of a smile tempering harsh words. "And here I'd thought certain my protector had abandoned me for the wiles of a wench."

Emma chuckled softly, depositing the stack of wood next to the woman seated on one of the bedrolls, biting back a groan as her arm pulled once again. "I gave my word I would see you safe, and I mean to do so."

As Emma arranged the sticks, a hand was placed on her forearm, just below the dirty and bedraggled bandage that seeped through with fresh blood. Emma raised her head, turning her gaze to meet Regina's directly. She nearly gasped at the warmth that radiated toward her from the woman she accompanied. "May I assist you with your wound, Swan?" Emma turned her eyes away, breaking the haunting capture of the dark eyes before her. "Or are you so stubborn you will insist 'tis nothing?"

Emma stopped, her hands stilling on the wood. The deep cut stung fiercely, the makeshift bandage having long since served its purpose. Assistance with its dressing would be the smartest endeavor. Besides which, she did still need to cleanse her weapons and herself. A well bandaged and tended arm would assist with that. "As you wish, my lady."

Ducking her head, the softly lit beauty before her admonished her yet again in dulcet tones. "I have told you. You may call me Regina."

Emma pulled back, dipping her head in acknowledgment of the order with a half smile. "As you wish...Regina."

Regardless of what her parents thought, she was definitely able to be charmed.

It promised to be a difficult journey.

Regina's hands were gentle and sure as she removed the bandage, the motion drawing Emma forcibly from her thoughts. The blood had dried in haphazard patches as it had pulled open repeatedly, forcing Regina to be more cautious as she released the cloth from Emma's arm. As it reached the final layer pressed against her skin, Regina leaned forward, her fingers nimbly tracing over dried spots. A small jug was pulled forward and the clear water within poured over Emma's arm, cascading on the broad cloth below, prepared so to capture the bloodied water. 

It appeared Regina was well familiar with how to prevent those bonded to the land from detecting their bloodline.

Emma watched, pained gasps aching to hiss between her teeth. She bit them back ruthlessly lest she startle the concentrating woman that gently pried the dirtied and bloodied cloth from her wound. Her jaw fairly creaked from the effort as the final bits of cloth came free with a new bubbling of blood. 

A soft oath sounded from the kneeling woman and Emma blinked in surprise. Regina's cheeks flushed. "Apologies."

"No apologies necessary." Sweat dotted her forehead as her soft tone was kept as comforting as possible. Regina's gentle fingers touched at the edges of the wound and she frowned. Emma stared at the now gaping maw in her arm, identifying the broad pulse of her heartbeat in the slowly seeping wound. It was fascinating to see it match the beat in her chest, the small vessel within her arm, banded upon either side by thicker sinews of muscle, exposed to the air of the world for the first time. 

Regina released a long slow breath, her hand gently gripping at Emma's arm. Haltingly, she spoke with a carefully neutral tone. "With your permission, I am able to heal this." Her hand twitched on Emma's wrist, her thumb tracing over an old sparring scar. Emma ached to respond in kind. "It will be painful."

"It already is."

"Accelerating the healing process makes all of the pain hit in the same timespan." Regina raised a sorrowful gaze to meet Emma's querying one. "There is no way to stop that."

Emma smiled, her other hand reaching over and resting atop Regina's. Her thumb rubbed over the delicate bones. She could feel the thrum of Regina's heartbeat, pounding at the proposition. "If it will allow me to protect you, I would endure the very fires of Hell."

Dark eyes seemed to deepen in the flickering firelight, the soft crackle of the burning wood filling the air with a slightly sweet smoke. Emma met the questioning gaze openly and honestly. Regina dropped her gaze after a long moment. Emma couldn't tell if it was the firelight or if the woman truly had a blush suffusing her features. 

"You will need to lay down and be comfortable." Regina's calm tone wavered slightly. "You're going to pass out."

Emma nodded and stood, cautious of her arm as she contemplated how best to proceed. Thankfully her breeks were easily dispatched, as was her leather vest and the remainder of her shirt. The removal of her weapons would be the most problematic, what with their weight, and she hesitated before beginning. Regina rose, her tunic falling to below her knees in a cascade of cloth. 

"Allow me." Regina's hands trembled slightly as she began with the sword belt, unfastening the buckle and placing the sword with reverence. Her fingers curled around the bottom fastening of the vest, slipping it through its hole rapidly. Regina quickly slipped the other fastenings loose, her fingers trembling as they brushed against Emma's breast. "Sorry." 

Emma chuckled softly. "My fault for choosing this vest." She dutifully tried to ignore the hammering of her heart. 

"Blue suits you," Regina murmured as she released the final, hidden fasteners and slid the vest over Emma's shoulders. "Brings out your eyes." This time, Emma could see the pink tinge to her companion's cheek as she spoke, despite her full attention being on not furthering Emma's injury.

"Thank you."

"Do you wish to wear a clean shirt?" Regina was eying the torn and much bedraggled cloth that covered Emma's torso with a critical bent.

"Please." Emma's cheeks flushed. She was incredibly grateful to Regina for assisting her. She just wished she'd had enough foresight to wear her customary smallclothes. As it was, she would soon be bare as a newborn babe before Regina's eyes. It was part of why she'd chosen the vest that she had - she could get away without smallclothes, which made traveling much lighter, especially for short trips. "Anything will do."

Regina returned from the saddlebags with a sleeveless tunic Emma favored. It typically fell across the middle of her thighs, allowing her full freedom of movement while preserving the bulk of required modesty. She flushed.

"I can, uh, try to change my shirt."

"Don't be ridiculous." 

Emma's protest waved away, the edges of the cloth of her shirt were pulled apart, revealing the hardened muscles of her stomach in addition to the bared curves of her breasts. A small knife flashed in Regina's hand and the cloth above her injured arm was rent, allowing Regina to slide the shirt off without putting further undue stress on the already belabored limb. 

The rosy tinge of her cheeks had not abated.

A wet cloth was dragged over Emma's arms and torso, cleaning the grime and sweat from her skin. She allowed her eyes to flutter shut in pleasure as her back was cleaned in broad, gentle strokes. Tender and caring, the attention to Emma's comfort warmed her from within, filling her chest with an unrelenting heat that suffused throughout her body. The constant throb of her arm lessened beneath the gentle onslaught, her mind swirling with the acceptance of Regina's touch. All too soon, gentle hands guided her arms up, allowing Regina to slide the soft cloth of Emma's sleeping tunic over her head, covering her now cleaned torso. 

"Thank you." Soft as it was, Emma's thanks remained coarse and roughened by the emotion that choked in her chest. 

"You're welcome." Regina's answering murmur served to distract from the sure fingers that slipped into the waistband of Emma's breeks, undoing the ties with a dexterity surely born of having worn breeks herself. A flash of Regina attired in naught but breeks flashed into Emma's mind and her cheeks heated as her breath caught in her throat. 

At least she'd worn clean smallclothes beneath her breeks. 

The cloth around her hips loosened and was lowered down her legs with woeful speed. Emma mourned the loss of touch, only to nearly fall over as a wet cloth began a trek over every inch of her legs. She flushed at the thought of Regina wiping her down fully. 

She needn't have worried, she realized and bemoaned silently, as Regina's distractingly nimble fingers did not stray above the hem of Emma's tunic. Regina gestured to the bedroll for Emma to lay flat upon it. Lowering herself upon her good arm, Emma looked up at Regina.

"Whenever you're ready."

Regina rubbed her hands together. "I'm sorry."

Emma reached up and placed her hand over Regina's, meeting and holding the conflicted mahogany gaze. "I trust you."

A long moment later, Regina nodded and smiled shakily. Emma lay her hand back down on the bedroll and took a deep breath, releasing it measuredly. "Don't try and control the pain. It will overwhelm you. Let it pass through you."

At Emma's nod, Regina spread her hands on either side of Emma's gaping wound, her lips moving in a near silent incantation. The air began to vibrate with a building tension, as though every molecule in Emma's body was being drawn toward a single pinprick. Between one breath and the next it ratcheted from endurable to torturous, and Emma gasped against the sensation. Each particle of her being thrummed along with Regina's near soundless voice, dancing to her tune. 

Wryly, Emma wondered if this was what the puppets endured.

Or whether it was worse.

In the next moment, the world tore apart. Emma's eyes shot wide open as the combined sensate of crushing pressure, crawling inchworms of pure lancing agony and an unendurable itch that pressed against the inside of her skin, screaming to be released. White hot, countless crawling agonies danced within her arm, suffusing her existence with naught but the endurance of their presence, each increase of its length providing more for the pain to travel upon, to wrap around the base of her skull with a dull throbbing eclipsed by the screaming tear of rent flesh knitting itself together. As the lanced blood vessels sought each other and embraced, the fresh bloodflow to formerly starved areas brought with it a new maelstrom of fresh agony. Each heartbeat forced further blood to the area, reminding each cell of its existence, its ability to send a new message through her body that pronounced loudly that it continued to live, embracing everything that had been Emma and forcing it to subsume beneath the onslaught of awesome pain.

Though her eyes were wide and affixed to the ceiling, she could see nothing but the torturous healing. Her entire body felt as though it were pulsing beneath the strike of dancing light, every sensation thrumming and throbbing with the muted murmur of a single fixed voice. Her last conscious thought turned to the kneeling figure next to her, knowing only this beauteous savior could end this agony, could deliver her from this unendurable explosion along her sinews. Blackness ringed the edges of her vision, as fireflies danced before her eyes.

Her body collapsed and she knew nothing more.

Emma rode through countless orchards with her entrancing savior, their hands linked as they transitioned from riding to walking in the blink of an eye. Orchards gave way to a grey sky over harshly crashing waves, Emma's arms wrapped around a trim waist soon to grow slack from the coming of something...something just past her knowledge. What was it? It was something important. Something was depending on this. She turned the woman in her arms, running her fingers gently down the lines of her face, a thumb caressing over a faint scar that bisected her lip. She ached to kiss the pain in those russet eyes away, to protect and stand by this woman without question or need for further boon beyond her company. She needed to do this. This woman deserved no less than her all, and she would provide it to the fullest of her ability. The scene surrounding them shifted to her bedroom balcony, the spring birds swirling through the eddies over the lake. The woman held something in her arms. Emma couldn't see what it was, but waved a paper at her until she was graced with a smile. She would do anything for that smile. 

With a jolt, Emma suddenly felt the rocking of a ship's deck beneath her, and felt the ache in her heart that came from being separated from that woman. She had to get back. She was swimming. She was slipping. There was water-

Slowly, Emma realized she was waking up. Cool dampness was being brushed along her skin. A cloth? A wet cloth. Bathing. The cave. 

"Regina." Hoarse and rough, Emma's voice startled her own ears. Had she been screaming? Why couldn't she open her eyes?

"Shh." The damp cloth was brushed across her forehead. "I'm here. You're safe. You're-" Regina's soft voice cracked. "You're healed. Now you need rest." An exhale of the worry that laced her voice. "Go back to sleep."

Emma's finger twitched. Her arms ached to wrap around and hold but could not muster the strength to rise from the bedroll. "Stay."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Here." Emma licked her lips and was given a sip of water from a small jug. "Stay here. With me..." Her voice faded as she fought the exhaustion that encroached over her every molecule. 

"You idiot." The quiet comment bore the unmistakable hint of a smile. "Of course I'll stay."

When she woke again, the fire had fully died. A few hours remained before sunrise, from the barest dimness of the night sky visible through the mouth of the cave. A heated bundle was curled against her side. Emma raised her head - gratified to find she could do so without difficulty - and spotted a dark mass of hair tucked against her side. 

With a smile, Emma wrapped her arms around Regina and returned to a deep, dreamless sleep. 

Her last and final awakening came suddenly. In one moment she was contentedly drifting through the last vestiges of a healing and restful respite, the next the world had spun on its axis and she'd pinned Regina to the bedroll.

Mildly startled and sleepy brown eyes met the alarmingly awake and stunned stare that Emma pinned her with. "I'll make sure not to tickle you in future." 

The wry and amused comment flushed Emma's face and she scrambled off the prone woman. A languid stretch later saw Regina greeting her with a smile. "Are you always so energetic in the morning?"

Emma's cheeks heated further and she shook her head. "Uh, I don't - we - I'm sorry." 

Regina's smile accompanied a short head shake. "We should get going if we want to reach the castle by dark."

Emma stared after the sauntering woman, her eyes fixated on the swaying hips until they disappeared out of sight. Ablutions, clothing and a quick consumption of trail rations saw the two prepared for the day. The horses had not wandered much past the bare patches of consumed grass, and were able to be saddled quickly. Emma ran through a quick set of stretching and agility exercises, pleased to find her reflexes at the level she preferred. It did not appear the wound she had sustained - and probably exacerbated in her attempt to protect her companion - had done any permanent damage. Not that she wished to experience magical healing again if she could help it. It may have been due to the area or the depth of the wound, but the experience was not one she had any inclination toward.

The dreams afterwards had been...an oddity.

"Were you always at Abby Drycraeft?" Deciding to ignore the experience, Emma instead turned her attention to attempting to draw her companion out in conversation again. It had not gone well the day previous. Perhaps this day would see better.

"I was sent after my eighth summer. I'd shown some aptitude for the arts required and my parents sought to have me educated properly." A soft, bemused smile tempered the wry tone. "It wouldn't do to have me going off in the middle of a ball, now would it?"

Emma laughed softly. "That's how I got into combat." She glanced at her arm. "I'm usually...um."

Regina's laugh sounded merrily through the forest. "Not as clumsy as a bull headed ox?"

Emma scowled before winking playfully. "You should come watch some of our training sessions."

"Where you run around spanking everyone who refuses to strike the jewel of her parent's eye?"

"Pain in their backside, more like. My father still dumps me every once in a while." Regina shook her head. "Not nearly as often as I feed him dirt. I do try to be gentle." Emma grinned. "He is needing a more gentle touch in his old age."

Regina shook her head as she laughed, "You are incorrigible."

"You don't mind it."

A soft smile curled Regina's lips as she glanced over at Emma. "No. I suppose I don't."

In stark contrast to the day previous, Emma's questions were met with more than simplistic answers - she learned much of how deeply it pained Regina that her lands were at risk as soon as she mentioned it.

"If that stuffed sausage of a man thinks I will not spit roast him for what he has done in the barony, he will quickly learn what it means to truly serve your people." The fire that blazed in Regina's dark gaze melted through Emma, her heart thudding at the excitement of a worthy counterbalance to her own passion for the same. The Baron's actions, his covert incitement against his rulers in order to crush his own people beneath his bootheel, could not be borne. 

"Your passions serve you well." 

"D-did the last skirmish with George's forces render anything useful?"

A deep flush colored her companion's cheek, and Emma allowed the stammered change in subject to pass unopposed. "Some. We've no surety against another attack. His forces were...ill trained."

Regina dipped her head, her contemplative musing echoing Emma's own. "He's trouble raising forces."

"Possibly. It could be a feint, using mere fodder to draw our attentions elsewhere."

"Were that true, the castle would have already been sieged."

Emma raised a hand in a vague shrug. "Possibly. It would serve much were he able to lull us into complacency then attempt a siege whilst the tournament is underway."

Regina laughed softly. "Such efforts would prove foolhardy. All would unite under the banner of White in the face of a siege."

"Plausible, provided he were to not fling the diseased amongst us." Emma grimaced at the remembrance of tales of the siege that had seen the falling of her grandfather's closest allies.

A soft hum of agreement sounded from her companion. In the woods surrounding them, the birds twittered their sweet song, one rising in telltale whorls. Emma nodded to the avian messenger, watching as it drifted along the high eddies.

"The land has recovered well." Emma turned a crooked smile on the thoughtful woman. "It could not have done so without suitable guidance." A sidelong glance was caught out of the corner of Emma's eye, the measured weight of it sending skitters along the Champion's spine. "As Heir..." 

The trailing of the dulcet tones led Emma to confess. "It shall be my duty to continue to uphold the bonds with the land and the people." A deer darted across the path behind them, just close enough to make the horses whicker in recognition. "I have been charged by birth and by choice to stand as my people's Champion. I am born to this, and I have sworn to this." She shot a quick grin over at her charge. "I'd have it no other way."

Regina gave her a tight lipped smile, her gaze distant as she visibly turned Emma's words over in her mind. "And your alliance?"

"My allegiance is to the White Kingdom and its people. Any to whom I am sworn becomes the White Kingdom and its people." Emma laughed shortly. "My father tells me I have inherited his simple mind."

A soft laugh sounded from her companion. "There is much of the idiot within you." 

A goshawk swooped low over their heads, its wings dipping side to side. Emma's fingers flicked in acknowledgment. "We draw near." She turned her head and gave a lackluster grin. "You'll soon be divested of my company."

"Pity." The wry humor of Regina's tone raised a laugh, full and genuine, from the depth of Emma's steadily encroaching dread.

Within half a league, their honor guard met them on the road, the armed horse patrol bearing the banners of the White Kingdom and the Summerlands. Their easy discussion fell by the wayside in the midst of open ears, though Emma could scarcely deny herself continued glances at the Lady Regina. The dirt of the road left her unmarred, though the soft healthy sheen of a exertion dusted her skin. The woman's capable riding had seen no drop in their pace, a fact to which Emma was both grateful and ill disposed. It would have suited her well to camp one further night and spend yet another day in the Lady Regina's company. 

It had not been often that Emma had engaged in such easy conversation. Her stomach roiled at the implication. She knew not what would come as they entered the castle but she knew well what had occurred in their brief time traversing the countryside.

By the time they reached the castle, Emma knew without a doubt that this journey had visited upon her a hardship the likes of which she had never before endured. Lady Regina bore within her all the strengths and desirous qualities that stood well for a proper Queen, a Queen the likes of which Emma positively ached to serve. 

And she was betrothed.

She could do naught but to stand by and allow for her heart's truest desire to be borne away by one unworthy of the enchanting Regina's attentions. 

A fanfare sounded before them as soon as they came visible at the edge of the forest. Emma smirked wryly. This had not been a battle, nor had it be more than a simple few days jaunt through the woods - the unexpected entanglement with the footpad notwithstanding - surely it did not justify a full court reception. 

Unfortunately, as they arrived with the dying rays of the afternoon sun, it appeared it truly was to be a reception attended by all and sundry. Cries sounded from the courtyard, cheers and festive music indicating the the wedding festivities had been waiting only for their return to begin. Unfurled from the battlements, the flags of their respective kingdoms fluttered in the breeze. 

"Hail, Her Royal Highness Emma Swan! Hail, Her Royal Highness Regina Mills Verano!"

The shouts echoed through the courtyard, ringing against the decorated stone and wooden buildings. Through the crowd, she recognized a flash of ginger. Jiminy. Apparently further news would be forthcoming. Emma caught Regina's eye and tilted her head toward the inner courtyard. A single arch nod indicated her assent. They increased their speed to a trot and quickly escaped the amassed throng and their deafening cheering, their honor guard falling behind to halt further encroachment into the inner courtyard. 

"Do you always arrive to such greeting?" Regina's wry smirk was met with a short sharp bark of laughter as they halted their steeds.

"In faith, no. Methinks its you they've turned out to see." She dismounted and extended a hand up to Regina to help her dismount. The warm hand placed within her own sent her mind skittering away. "It's not every day they get to see a princess of the first water."

Regina flushed, sliding off of the saddle and into the proffered circle of Emma's arms. She opened her mouth to reply but snapped it closed as a voice sounded from behind Emma. 

Thrice damned Baelfire.

"Greetings, Sister. I've been sent to bid the two of you: please dress for dinner and join us forthwith." With an exaggerated bow, Bae extended his leg in a mock of courtly presentation. "Also, I've been sent to escort you to make sure you don't lose your way." He straightened and grinned at Regina, gesturing at Emma with an exaggerated whisper. "Directional sense of a blind swallow, this one."

Regina's hand pressed flat against Emma's shoulder as she took in the sight of the man before her. "You said one brother was a fool and one was a puppet. Would this be the puppet or the fool?"

Emma's shoulders shook with silent laughter as Baelfire gasped in mock outrage from behind her. A scant breath later, Regina burst into a peal of laughter. Bae must have done his August impression. 

"I see, the fool. 'Tis a pleasure to put a face to the idiotic stories, Baelfire."

Emma turned her head far enough to catch Bae's grin, Regina's warm palm still resting against her shoulder. "Pleasure to meet you, lady." He jerked his head in their direction. "I'll be outside."

Emma shook her head and released Regina. "You're an unadulterated ass. I have no idea how your wife puts up with you."

"My wit and charm are wasted on you."

"On you as well."

"You wound me to the quick."

"Bae, you have no quick."

"If I did, you would have wounded me!"

Regina shook in laughter, handing her bags off to the silent attendants that had sprung from the stables to assist while the two idiots with her bantered. "Come you two, you'll no doubt continue this all night if we don't get you fed."

Baelfire looked back and forth between the retreating form of Regina and Emma, who remained near him. She crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow at him. "What? I know you've got something to say, spit it out before I have to draw it out of you."

He leaned in, his voice lowered to a mocking whisper. "How in the hell did she get to know you so well in two days?" 

Before she could reply, he dashed off to catch up with the bride to be, leaving Emma to wonder the same and follow into the castle at a slightly slower pace.

The washing of the dust and sweat of the road was a welcome respite. She was not all that certain that what was to come would be anywhere near as restful. She inhaled and exhaled slowly as she rolled the muscles of her shoulders and back to work them loose. She examined the spot on her arm that had just the day previous been torn into a gaping maw. Her fingers traced over the skin, knitted together without a trace of injury. Her mind cast back to the welcome and gentle touch that had drifted across her skin, soothing her pain and exhaustion. 

Her eyes fluttered closed as she recalled the hitch in Regina's voice as she knelt over her, tending to the woman sworn to protect her. Her hand fisted at her side. She'd disappointed herself. There was a reason she preferred to enter into these sorts of things on the battlefield. Messy as it was, raw as it was, at least there it was expected to be attacked from all sides. Not whilst on a journey through pastoral wood. 

Sighing, Emma rose from the bath. While not a long soak, it had served it purpose. Delaying her dressing further would do nothing to fend off the inevitable. As she drew a fresh pair of breeks over her legs, a short sharp knock of a castle attendant sounded. She pulled a tunic over her head rapidly and called out. 

"Enter."

The door opened quickly, allowing a small girl, new to service just that year, into her room. The girl curtsied and stood awkwardly in the dress that looked freshly laundered. "Your Royal Majesty, Her Majesty Queen Snow requests you escort Her Royal Majesty Regina to dinner after Vespers." As soon as the words were spoken a look of relief washed over the girl's face. Emma almost chuckled. Bloody titles always made address overly complicated. 

"Thank you, Gretel. Please inform my mother I will do as requested by telling her this." Emma leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially. "Mission accepted. Swan will fly."

The girl's eyes widened for a moment before she broke into a cheeky grin and curtsied. "Thank you, Your Royal Highness."

Emma waved her hand in farewell as the girl left. She returned to her bed and looked at the clothing laid upon it. As she would be escorting a princess to dinner, it would do to counter her attire. All Regina had worn for the previous two days had been simple riding dresses. Whether that was personal taste or imposed by the Abbey, Emma was uncertain. The dinner would mark the first time to spy the woman in her own chosen attire. 

It wouldn't do to upstage the woman. Perhaps something softer, more dressy would suffice. That would come on the days of the balls and coming festivities, however, and this dinner was meant to be a quiet gathering of the family. 

And Regina.

Regina and the family.

Emma rubbed her forehead and grabbed her smallclothes, quickly divesting herself of the tunic she'd thrown on, replacing it with a soft silken tunic in a rich emerald green. She thought back to how Regina had commented on her eyes and how it suited her. She looked down at her tunic and swore. Maybe Regina would like this - green did tend to bring out the verdant hues in her eyes according to her mother. She needed to get her blue vest cleaned after wearing it for a week solid. 

She paused and looked out the window, the unfurled banners for the kingdoms dotting the battlements. 

She was due to escort the Lady Regina to meet her family. 

Emma stared for a long moment before slamming her feet into her boots.

Holding her head up high, Emma exited her room as the bells rang marking the imminence of Vespers. The happenings of the week weighed heavily on her shoulders, and it would do for her to have some sufficient answers. Were the situation presented to her for review, she would demand respite and explanation. 

A sharp rap on her parent's study announced her before she opened the door a scant breath later. She strode in to find her father rolling his eyes at her antics. 

"No, please, do just enter at will."

"Hello, Sire. Who is Regina to wed." David stared at her for a long moment before laughing softly and gesturing for her to follow. He led her to the side of the room opposite, where Snow's imposing desk stood covered with numerous parchments, one stack in particular at her elbow. 

Once they reached the desk, Snow glanced up with a fond smile. David bowed deeply in an exaggerated motion - Emma remembered well exactly where Baelfire had picked up his mockery of courtly frippery - and announced in sonorous tones, "Emma wishes to know who is to be wed to the Lady Regina."

Snow stared at him for a long moment, blinking in startlement. "I hate you sometimes, Charming."

"Naturally, Your Highness." His grin was unrepentant as he blew a kiss at her. 

Snow sighed and rose from her desk. A single parchment from her desk was lifted between her fingers and she perused it for a moment before handing it over to her daughter. Curious, Emma accepted the parchment.

She stared at it for long moments before she swallowed heavily and licked her lips. Softly, the words sounded between them. "I'm marrying her?"

Snow looked over at her husband, who had stepped forward. "I told you Bae getting married complicated this." Emma nodded absently, oblivious to the glare that David pinned on her. "And you know August is ineligible."

Emma shook her head, still staring at the pristine parchment held within her grasp, announcing to the world that HRH Emma Swan was to be wed to HRH Regina Mills Verano in five days.

"Emma?" The concern in her mother's voice snapped her free of the shock of her own thoughts, her head rising to meet her parent's worried gazes that had been fixed upon her for goodness knows how long.

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. "I'm marrying her?" Unlike the previous recitations, this bore with it an implicit question. Her parents exchanged a glance and Snow stepped forward, her hand extending.

"If you'd rather-"

"No." Emma's voice rang strong in the room, interrupting her mother. The Queen of the kingdom she had sworn to serve, the kingdom she protected with every fiber of her being. The Kingdom she would someday rule. She looked back down at the invitation in her hand. The Kingdom she would rule with Regina at her side. Once again, the memory of assured hands soothing her, nimble fingers teasing her, soft smiles directed at her, wry laughter and biting wit directed at her...Regina's warm and soft hands gently caressing her skin, of the care she took. The anguish on her face, barely glimpsed, when Emma had awoken in the middle of the night. Of the discovery the following morning of the mindful cleaning of her weapons. Of the peals of laughter in the stable as they arrived less than hour hence. "No. She will..."

Emma trailed off in the midst of her thought and looked up at her parents. A fierce determination drew her spine straight and she faced them as their daughter, as their heir, as the promise of everything they had fought for.

"We shall wed at the end of the week." She met her parent's gazes directly, already knowing the answer. They knew how to plan. "The banns have been read. Haven't they?"

The query resembled a statement far more than enquiry, but was answered anyway. "This morning marked the third and final unchallenged announcement."

A small smile curved the side of Emma's mouth. "Good." She turned on her heel and strode to the door, before recalling that she still bore in her grasp the invitation. She turned once again and dashed to deposit the invitation on Snow's parchment cluttered desk. She drew both of her parents into an embrace, then pressed a kiss to each of their cheeks. "Thank you."

With nothing further, she dashed from the room with a haste they had not often seen. 

After long moments, they turned to each other and burst into laughter. Snow pointed at her husband, her smile spreading wide. "When she's like this, she is your daughter!"

David's grin was every bit as unrepentant as it had been a scant few moments previous. He pulled his wife into his arms and nipped at her neck, greeted with a smack to the back of his shoulder. "It only took me half a day to fall in love with you."

Emma's abrupt departure from her parents had been driven by a sudden impetus that demanded succor. 

She had a burning need to attend on her betrothed.

She wandered the halls until she reached the parapet, then spying her quarry entering the gardens. All else equal, only one explanation stood forth to hold why Regina had treated her in such manner, only one that indicated why Regina would have sought none of her at the start. Naught but a single truth could hold these explanations, and Emma would suss them.

She knew well what she wished it to be. What she would gladly shout from the battlements were it to be true, to announce to all and sundry the truth she knew in her heart. 

She slowed her step, boots crunching the gravel beneath her heels. She openly drank in the sight before her, the woman attired in rich brocades and velvets cut away to reveal the powerful thighs that rode with such expertise. As one gentle finger reached out to brush across a tiny white blossom, Emma could stay her tongue no longer.

"In a few months, the fruit will blossom. Cook picks the best and crafts a truly amazing dessert. She always makes it look like one of the flowers. She says it reminds us of where it's come from."

A soft smile curled at the edges of Regina's lips, tempered by the startlement of Emma's sudden appearance. "Maybe I'll get a chance to try it someday."

Emma took a step forward, drawn by the allure of that graceful neck, the flush on the exquisitely olive cheek. "My parents finally saw fit to confess to me the identity of your betrothed."

Confusion in swirling mahogany depths cleared as Emma finished her statement, one brow arching in judgment. "You embarked on this quest without knowing?"

Emma raised a shoulder in a negligent shrug. "I have never much been overburdened with the need of knowledge afore a quest such as this." The distance between them remained farther than an armspan. Emma stepped forward again, her hand resting against the pommel of her sword. Regina's eyes darted toward her hand, curled around the broad pommel. "Comparatively when weighed against my usual charges, this quest resembled..." Emma's gaze dropped to take in the stark lines of Regina's attire. A smile began at the corner of her mouth. "Pleasure." 

Regina blinked at that before assessing Emma with a full measuring stare. "You are truly an odd one, Emma Swan."

She chuckled and extended an arm to her betrothed. "In all the best ways, I trust. May I show you the gardens?" 

Conflicted russet eyes closed in a flutter before snapping open. The swirling eddies had cleared, leaving a clear and shining eagerness, tempered by a hard taught wariness. Emma's heart thudded in her chest. This woman before her, this enchanting and entrancing figure, gifted with a mind more exquisite than her body, this woman was her betrothed. In five days time, this woman would be Emma's bride. In time, and with their lives conjoined, this woman would be Emma's Queen. 

A warm hand slid into the crook of Emma's arm. "I should be delighted." A shy glance tossed her way, tinged with an underlying heat. "Emma."

It is said the longest and shortest of tales begins the same way.

The legend of the White Kingdom began cast in blood. Through generations, much was seen in the way of light and dark. Balance was sought, lost, sought again, and won with hard fought battles of the sword and wit. The ascension of the joined houses of the White Kingdom and the Summerlands rang through the annals of time, bringing it with it unparalleled prosperity. Though many attempted the encroachment against their combined forces, all saw their efforts defeated. 

The siege led by the Scion of the House of White saw the end of great evil, and the beginning of it's future. Born from blood, cast in battle, the House of White joining with the Scion of the Summerlands heralded the burgeoning of a new era.

As with the best of tales, the legend of Emma Swan and Regina Mills begins and ends with the same frisson.

Love.


End file.
